


appulse

by halfaday



Series: doyu drabbles [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Seemingly unrequited love, ment of alcohol very briefly, the friends to lovers kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday
Summary: This tradition started years ago. Today is just another one of these times, unchanged, the same as always. Dongyoung knows.(And yet.)
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Series: doyu drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906981
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	appulse

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mouthful but please stick with me…  
> 5+1 au. throughout their lives, dongyoung and yuta go to the same five celebrations. a wedding; a joint anniversary; a celebration; a wedding; another wedding. bullet points abt the celebrations (bc this au is too damn long to retell fully) are: 5yo doie meets yuta and Hates him during the 1st celebration, however when he loses his parents in the crowd of guests, yuta helps him find them. his redemption arc doesn't last long bc during 2nd and 3rd dongyoung hates him again. time passes, dongyoung goes to uni — meets yuta there, and realises he's not that bad of a guy, of a friend. 4th celebration happens one year and a half after they've met at uni, during the wedding afterparty yuta bikes dongyoung back to the hotel they and their parents are staying at bc doie feels sick. (when the oh. realisation hits dongyoung like a truck.)  
> 5th celebration, aka this drabble: after graduating, while doyu are flatmates. johnyong's wedding, and doie hasn't acted on his feelings.
> 
> if you've reached this point and intend on reading still… ty and i hope you enjoy

On the dance floor Yuta executes a complex choreography with Youngho — something they must have practiced beforehand, something that probably explains why Yuta recently turned down so many offers to hang out. It's their third dance of the night — penultimate before Youngho goes back to his spouse, for the mandatory slow dance and all the other ones that shall follow until dessert is served — until Yuta is left alone once again, and decides on his new activity. Shall he chat with Youngho's mother, father, in-laws? Shall he dance with the kids who dream of standing on the dance floor? Shall he grab a flute, and drink while watching over his best friend with fond eyes? Shall he go back to their table, and join Dongyoung again?

He wouldn't be in his element — but then again, neither is Dongyoung, right now. Far from his comfortable apartment, his comfortable bed — way past his bedtime, and uninterested in most events currently happening. He's happy for Youngho, of course. Happy for him and Taeyong, looking forward to celebrating their happiness every year — but this isn't how he sees it. He likes quiet, secluded celebrations — Yuta doesn't mind loud, is fine pretending for a much longer time than he can. As always: Yuta is made for weddings, and Dongyoung is made for getting lost in them.

'You don't look really at home.'

Jaehyun offers a smile when he looks up — requests the spot next to him in exchange. Dongyoung, deeming it a fair trade, accepts — he waits for Jaehyun to sit down, to lean back in his seat; then confesses that indeed - he does not feel at home.

'Didn't need an answer, don't worry,' Jaehyun teases — but he extends his glass anyway, offers Dongyoung a very ephemeral slice of happiness. Dongyoung shakes his head — his slice of happiness is dancing the night away, and it is enough to make this party bearable.

'Suit yourself,' Jaehyun laughs. 

The song playing fades out, makes way for a very strange remix of a ballad Dongyoung has never heard before (wishes he would not be listening to right now). On the dance floor, Youngho starts leading a very passionate, but very confusing tango. Yuta is in high spirits, mouth wide open as he laughs and eyes forming crescents — he's beautiful, just like always, and Dongyoung yearns to be the reason for his laughter; the body in his arms and, perhaps - the one haunting his mind, too.

'You haven't told him, yet, have you?'

A glance is not needed: Dongyoung knows Jaehyun is staring at him, and he knows how he looks, in this very moment. Hopeful, lovestruck — a little bit broken perhaps, and most definitely obvious, stupid. The typical friend who wishes for more — the typical friend who hasn't made a move for years, because he's scared of ruining things, because he's convinced himself friendship is better than nothing. In a way, it is, and Dongyoung is fulfilled — in another, it is not, and Dongyoung's heart breaks a little more every day.

Yuta laughs, for the nth time today, and Dongyoung smiles, fond.

'I haven't, no.'

Jaehyun deserves an answer longer than this — he deserves a lengthy explanation, something that makes sense of everything. But it's impossible for Dongyoung to provide him one: he himself isn't able to see a logical reason, isn't able to explain this situation. They're stuck — that, he knows. But it is where his knowledge ends, and the limpid water becomes murky. 

Perhaps it would have been easier, if they had started as friends rather than enemies — if he and Yuta had gotten along when they'd first met, and they'd spent most of their lives entangled, never without the other. If it hadn't taken Dongyoung years to realise Yuta is a decent person, and even more time to realise his weird hatred for him was only feelings. If they'd started close from the get-go, and he'd been granted the ability to love Yuta from the very start.

Dongyoung remembers a helping hand extended towards him — he remembers a sincere, honest smile, and the sudden feeling of comfort, of reassurance. He remembers a warm hand in his, and genuine gratitude pouring out of him — an impression of safety, that has come back again and again since the first time. He ponders, thinks it through — imagines a much less disastrous joint celebration of his uncle and aunt's sixtieth birthdays; a much longer event to attend at fourteen years old — another wedding a few years later, but without any remnant of hatred - with, instead, many moments of care, and love, no matter how deep it could have run. He remembers Yuta's back against his cheek, his soothing warmth as he cycled back to the hotel, and dropped him off — he imagines what could have been without their rivalry. Relaxed greetings, and the promise to see each other the next day, or at university — no hesitation in leaving, and no hint of a gaping hole in his chest.

(Or, perhaps - a gaping hole present for far longer, because he would know, and would feel just the same way - uncertainty, still, but entirely different - something, perhaps, that Yuta would have reciprocated, and, instead of a hesitation, it would be -)

A revelation. Dongyoung blinks back into present times, into an ever-present reality. Yuta dancing the night away, and a warmth by his side that will never match his. Hands brushing against each other many times, and questioning gazes, unended questions — the car waiting for them in the parking lot, the hotel room they booked for the night, normal life awaiting them tomorrow. The film they showed before Yuta's speech, and the very small children, the lanky teenagers, the handsome young men featured in it. Yuta, grinning widely as he watched the movie, and the impression Dongyoung had, as he cast him a glance and ended up staring, drowning in the sight, to be stuck in a million other universes, to be in this situation in all of them too. 

It isn't a story with many outcomes, many choices — it is a line that has only ever led to Yuta, something that, no matter which shape it takes, straight, spiralling, broken here and there — only reaches its end when it meets Yuta. It's fate, almost — a curse, Dongyoung thinks he could grow to say. But - the perspective of calling it a curse is unpleasant, Dongyoung thinks. It implies feeling imprisoned, and wanting to move on — things Dongyoung hasn't yet felt, hasn't yet desired. And he should, probably. He should sleep around until a beau sticks long enough to pretend, and drown himself in how different the relationship would be — he should move, far away, and try to find happiness in the distance between them, in the fact that the world, around them, is much bigger than one would ever think it is — he should look into Yuta's eyes, like this for the very last time, and then move on, turn everything upside-down and find a different kind of happiness.

He should — could, too. But Dongyoung feels just as free as when he was five, and hanging onto Yuta's hand as they looked for his parents — he feels just as content as he hoped to be then, as Yuta waved him goodbye, and his only thought was that he wanted to be his friend. He feels as light as he's ever been, and doesn't intend on tricking himself into believing he needs something else. Indeed, he could: his love for Yuta is a bullet in his foot that, from time to time, hurts — but most of the time, it is a pleasing thing to know they're friends for this entire lifetime - and Dongyoung doesn't need more: he walks just fine. 

'Here he comes. See you, Dongyoung. I've got a groomsman to dance with.'

Jaehyun deserts him, along with his half-empty glass of scotch — caught off-guard, with his words barely registered, Dongyoung is left waving goodbye to the empty air. A pity — but then again, he understands: Jaehyun has been wanting to dance with Sicheng all night, and if he does not take this opportunity - Taeil will, without ever letting him go again.

It's only fair.

A sudden flash of black covers everything Dongyoung was staring at — a very familiar blazer stops before him, before being taken off, and becoming a red satin shirt. Dongyoung looks up, finds longevity Jaehyun’s pitiful drink would never be able to offer.

'What're you here for?' he asks — containing his smile as best as he can, inadvertently letting it slip when his eyes meet Yuta's.

'You looked bored, from afar. Like you've been forced to watch two seasons of a very bad drama.'

Dongyoung snorts, remembers the months-old scene a little too well.

'Well, that was your decision, wasn't it?'

'It was,' Yuta nods sagely. He throws his suit on Jaehyun's now-abandoned seat and leans on the fragile table — holds out his hand, and waits. Expects. Finally asks, 'Will you dance with me? Youngho and Taeyong won't share anymore, and I need someone who's willing to have me all night.'

Dongyoung smiles, doesn't answer — pretends to consider the offer, as if they both don't know it ends.

'You'll owe me,' he finally says, taking off his jacket, 'you'll owe me big time.'

Yuta laughs, replies that he knows — grabs Dongyoung's hand as soon as it's free, and drags him to the middle of the dance floor, right by the newly-wed couple. There (Dongyoung shivers as it happens) he wraps Dongyoung's arms around his own neck, and snakes his own arms around Dongyoung's waist — he pulls Dongyoung closer, and makes his heart stutter.

There — he makes it infinitely hard for Dongyoung to be fine with friendship, and nothing more — he makes it tempting to yearn for more, and fantasise about it. Hands that wouldn't stay in place, a more private celebration (just the two of them), a whispered confession, an even quieter request for permission — the small distance between them being bridged, and lips meeting each other halfway; kisses being exchanged until oxygen is lacking, and there is nothing to do but laugh, giddy, at the lack of tension, at the clarity of the situation. Dongyoung closes his eyes, attempts to curse the images out of his mind. He's used to it now, knows how to handle himself — but still, it's a feat in itself to keep calm; not to run away or, worse, make a mistake. It's a feat in itself to treat this soullessly, and Dongyoung mentally pats himself on the back when his heart rate slows down. 

_Good job,_ he tells himself.

Sadly, Yuta misinterprets his behaviour: he sees fatigue where it barely peeks out, and boredom where it does not lie. He pulls Dongyoung even closer, right against his chest, as if they were hugging — unlinks his hands around his waist, and travels up his back with one of them — stops at his nape, and caresses it, twice, gently, as if to tell Dongyoung everything is okay, everything is fine — they're going home soon, and he's got him anyway. The furthest thing from the truth — yet another torment, another damnation for Dongyoung, but - Yuta's embrace is comfortable, and his hold is secure — he is warm against him, and Dongyoung feels at home in his arms. As always, when Yuta hugs him, when they're near each other — just like the first time, when Dongyoung held his hand, and Yuta guided him through stairs, tables, crowds. A comfort he never once found anywhere else — something akin to Yuta, and Yuta only.

Dongyoung wonders — if, maybe, this is one of the reasons (perhaps the main one?) he's fallen for Yuta — if it played a part in this unfortunate turn of events, and if he should blame it. He wonders, lets his thoughts run free — but then Yuta, mistaken Yuta, gently pushes his head to his own shoulder, and Dongyoung finds, realises that he does not care. The process does not matter, after all: the end is the same whichever shape the line takes — he is here no matter what, and it is not a realisation of this kind that will alter his fate.

He gives in, just for once; lies and plays the part Yuta expects from him. He sighs, and fully rests his head on his shoulder, burrows his face in the crook of his neck — gets a little drunk on the perfume Yuta is wearing, on how good he smells. How easy it would be to kiss the skin millimetres away from him, to use it as a starting point before wandering back up, all the way to Yuta's lips — but Dongyoung can't, not in a million years; so he swallows down the urge, the desire, and instead loosens his hold on Yuta's shoulders — sinks deeper into his arms, and settles in his embrace as if it were his home.

And it is not, most definitely not, but - Yuta squeezes his nape, and holds him tighter — leans his head on his, and slows his pace down, accommodates him as best as he can. He almost makes it seem like he _is_ home, and Dongyoung, weak, cannot resist: he sinks into the feeling.

Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. Today -

(Yuta caresses his back, whispers something he cannot quite decipher. Tone gentle, and soothing — Dongyoung falls deeper, deeper.)

Today, he'll pretend, just for once — and he'll resurface tomorrow.

It's a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> +1 is whatever you want it to be :-)
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/millesoirees)


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